Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining
by Varmith-Vermouth
Summary: A horrific nightmare sends Freakazoid to check up on Dexter in the middle of the night, because we are all scared of something and what we do about our fears make us human. For better, or for worse. Part II is Dexter's turn for a bad dream.


**Author's Note: Making this up as I go along. Can you tell? **

**Part I-Freak's Nightmare**

His lungs were screaming for air, and his heart was beating so fast that it seemed like it was going to claw itself right out of his chest. He never got tired over running, so why was he getting so exhausted now, of all times? When it mattered most that he should be able to fly like a rocket? Why wasn't he!

But he ran anyway, through the pain, and didn't dwell on it longer than he had to.

The small body of the person he was looking for soon came into view, and he only ran faster, though his whole body disagreed. Everything hurt, but he gained speed as the rain started to fall harder. He slipped and skidded about, but Freakazoid couldn't seem to reach Dexter quick enough.

But he still ran.

His throat was hoarse and sore, due to the many times he had bellowed his human's name. Upon making it to him, _finally_, he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. But Dexter lay there, unmoving, as his horse yells twisted into whispers sliding past his blue lips. And Dexter, god, Dexter was soaking wet, lying in the middle of the street, his brown hair slicked and dripping with the dirty water of the road. Freakazoid's blood ran cold, as he took his human's limp hand, lifting it, and then letting it fall, a puddle caused by the uneven street splashing in protest. He stared at him, his whispers of his name, turning into whispers of the simple, yet daunting word: No. No.

No.

He then took notice of the small details that he had overlooked. His hair. his normally soft bangs were matted and dirty, splayed out around his face. Glasses, one lens broken and the other completely gone. His body. Cold. Pale. His face, the worst of all, was completely blank. There was no trace of the bright-eyed, intelligent expression he carried most of the time. No shy, lopsided smile. And as he looked at him, horrified, his whispers turned to shouts, which soon curdled into choked sobs.

Water was coming from his eyes.

He never cried.

Never.

He gently slid his hands under the smaller's torso, picking Dexter up and setting him in his lap. He tried and failed to ignore as his head lifelessly drooped backwards. He gulped, struggling to quiet down. He hugged the inert form to his own chest, hiccuping and sniffing.

_This is what despair feels like._

The thunder boomed angrily as another round of pained and confounded sobs overtook him. He struggled to push away the cold words that he knew were very true: _Dexter was dead. _

Freakazoid sat bolt upright, panting clamorously. He shut his eyes tightly, his breath coming unevenly and out of his mouth in jagged '_whoosh_'s, like he breathed out when he was running around pretending to fly when he knew he couldn't. He quickly turned his head to look next to him.

Nothing. At first, he downright panicked, but then his memory filled itself in. Oh. Because _he_ was in the Freakazone and _Dexter_ was in…the Dexterzone or whatever his other half called it. In his own part of his mind. Point was, it had all been a horrible awful dream and all was right in the world. At least it should have been.

Ignoring the upturned coffee mug and the climax of whatever Rat Patrol episode he was watching before he'd fallen asleep, the super teen clumsily shot up off his couch, his legs still a little shaky, and headed straight for Dexter's room. Around him, thoughts were heavy and thick like fog as they drifted by and around him. It was the middle of the night, one o' three and seven seconds, the internet told Freakazoid.

By all rights, he should be deeply asleep like his other half most certainly was, tucked into his bed in the real world with his cat lying on his legs and snoring gently. But...He had to see for himself that Dexter was still breathing.

Finding Dexter's room to be shut tight as he slept, Freakazoid had to persuade the boy's subconscious to let him in a back door. At first it paused, then yielded when it recognized Dexter's alter ego. And Freak snuck in quietly, imaging only having to peek in, soothe his fears and head straight back to the Freakazone-

_Dear God. _

There Dexter lay motionless in a soft blue bed right in front of him, facing away. The room was bare except for a computer in the corner, its screen black and reading 'sleep mode.' But that wasn't what startled Freakazoid into entering the room fully and standing at the foot of his partner's bed. It was how quiet it was in the room. Not even the sound of Dexter's breathing. Oh god. Panic filled Freak's senses with horrid vapors and clouded his normally fast-paced mind.

He reached over to Dexter, hesitantly taking his hand, lifting it and letting it drop. To his horror, he didn't stir. He swiftly grabbed his shoulder, shaking it gently, praying that he'd wake up. Just as he was about to screech his name in a panicked and earsplitting manner, Dexter stirred. Freak paused, and quickly stopped his mental listing of ways that he could possibly kill himself, staring expectantly at his smaller half. The teen rolled over, opening his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them. Dexter propped himself up on one elbow, and squinted up at him. Confusion edged lazily across their shared link from him.

"Freakazoid ? What's wro-"He mumbled groggily.

"Dexter!" Freak breathed, relieved to see his human speaking to him quite clearly, if looking a little startled at his sudden appearance. He barely contained his jitters as he watched as the geek sat up, stretched, and rolled onto his knees, wriggling over to him and straightening up. Leaning over to his bedside table, Dexter snatched his glasses off the table and slipped them on the bridge of his nose, where he blinked up at Freakazoid in askance.

Unable to stand it anymore, Freakazoid threw himself at Dexter, hugging the skinny teen tightly around the waist and anchoring Dexter to his body. His other half only stared at him, confused, and placed a hand on his spiked head, dragging his long fingers through the black hairs.

"…Are you okay?" Dexter asked slowly.

He sighed. "Yeah. Sorry. I…uhh…" Freakazoid trailed off, lifting his head to look at Dexter. He only stared at him questioningly, his untidy bangs falling into his face, clouding his worried expression.

Dexter furrowed his brow, honestly feeling as though he had missed something. He looked around his own room, his eyes falling to his little green alarm clock. 1:15 am. His pajamas were wrinkled and riding up due to how tight Freak was hugging him. Freakazoid's link was only letting through anxiousness and clear confusion, blobby images with small bouts of fear over Dexter not being there anymore. But why…? Whatever it was that had scared his super alter-ego much have been pretty epic.

A bad dream? Did Freakazoid have those?

Then he was distracted by Freakazoid himself, who he found was indeed speaking again and still clutching him protectively. He was rambling on about some sort of nonsense about nightmares, and babbling on about rain and streets and Dexter. He barely understood it, but ran his hands through that lightning-streaked hair anyway, repeatedly telling him that it was fine, and it wasn't real, and that he was right there.

**Part II-Dexter's Nightmare**

There were no sounds; there were no smells, there wasn't anything. He was walking. He didn't really know where he was headed, just that he was walking. He then found himself walking across a bridge, and again, he wasn't sure where it led. He noticed, though, that there was an endless mass of sea beneath him. A long drop, and a bottomless pit of water. He wasn't mortally afraid; though to be honest, this bridge was quite large and wide and a tad rickety feeling. Nervous, then.

He continued his walk at the same pace he had been before, until he noticed his walk hastened almost as if he was being pushed by something or someone. He whipped his head around to reprimand whatever force was playing with his balance in what he deemed to be a precarious situation. Just as he had opened his mouth to speak, he found that no words would leave him as bright sky blue eyes stared down his own hazel ones.

For a fleeting moment, it was almost as if the world had stopped. An ocean breeze floated through the messy chocolate bangs framing Dexter's face, the same breeze lifting Freakazoid's long upward black hair to show both of his dilated eyes staring intently behind his mask. There was nothing in them. He was not gazing at his other half, and was not staring with any kind of concentration or teasing. Simply looking, nothing behind them like the usual spark of mischievousness that was usually present. That small glint, that hint of intensity that punctuated everything the super teen man said to make shivers run up the spine and redness etch itself onto one's face.

Freakazoid did not speak, but only clasped his arms around Dexter's upper torso and shoulders, pulling him ever so playfully to the hard wood of the bridge. Dexter did not know what to make of this. Freak wouldn't... wouldn't hurt him, would he?

"Freakazoid , what in the-" Dexter started, but didn't bother to tend to that sentiment for he hadn't before noticed that they were dangerously close to the edge of the garishly wide bridge as it was.

"St-stop that this instant!" Dexter implored as his body rippled with frightened convulsions. Freakazoid, still silent, ignored the boy's plea and continued to play with all the correct places on him that would make him jolt and as a result steadily move them toward the side.

"Freakazoid, _stop_!" Dexter shouted, pushing Freakazoid from him, severing their contact. In pushing Freakazoid away, Dexter, who had been closer to the edge, while Freakazoid had been closer to the bulk of the bridge, was sent hurtling over the edge, and into the suddenly rocking waves below him, dropping like a stone.

The world had gone achromatic. Plunged into the sea, Dexter was thrown back through countless hours of dunking and practical water boarding. Thrashing through the water that continuously rolled over his head, Dexter could feel his body well with water. Not being able to support himself, his struggle continued under the waves as he began to sink lower and lower. He could feel the immense pressure of the gravity of gallons and gallons of water pushing down on him.

Glasses long gone, he could see nothing and could hear nothing but the sound of an all too familiar voice howling at him. He fought to reach the surface but the too-real sensation of someone pushing him down prevented him. He fought against the tears, spurred by these sensations that he had not yet forgotten, that had begun to leak, forgotten amongst the water surrounding him. Dexter fought to keep his breath but he could not, it was impossible.

He followed through on what was natural for any person to do when deprived of air, inhaling. Taking in a large amount of water, he realized his mistake. He tried to scream, he tried to kick, he tried to run, but he could not. He couldn't fight anymore.

"Dexter! _Dexter!_"

He heard his name. He heard a low voice, now nearly frantic with his name being called. He also heard someone screaming, someone sounding so terrified, so sincerely terrified for their very life…

"Dexter! Snap out of it!"

He shot up. His eyes were opened, first seeing the bright blue ones of his alter ego. A wave of anxiousness crossed to Dexter's side of their shared link. Freak had been so concentrated on waking him up he hadn't bothered trying the mind link. 

Whenever Dexter had looked into Freakazoid's eyes previously, they had always, always had some kind of cocky, confident look about them. Now, with that hint of personality still there, they just looked extremely worried for the boy who should have been sleeping next to him.

Everything hit Dexter in an instant, so overwhelmingly that he fell back to the bed in a daze. It had been a nightmare, that was obvious, that still didn't make the fear in his chest any less real. The person screaming had been himself, and Freakazoid had been… concerned for him? Turning solely his head on the pillow, he looked at the taller teen propped up on his elbow, looking down at him and still looking slightly concerned but with his usual demeanor setting back in.

Dexter sent back, in response to Freakazoid's feelings, gentle soothing ones of his own to calm his super hero half down. When they contacted fully, the stark contrast between each other's thoughts nearly made enough energy to collapse a small star. As it was, they each relaxed in each other's presence, simply by one being close to the other.

Freakazoid sent him a look of dull questioning, but then shook his head as Dexter averted his eyes guiltily. He changed his look into one he usually wore, one of knowing, but this one held less conceit than usual. Freakazoid knew that look on Dexter's face; it was a look that he himself had worn when he had awakened from his own nightmares. Of course he had them too, but while Freak's had been focused solely around losing Dexter, it seemed Dexter himself wasn't eager to share his own visions. Freakazoid could respect that, withdrawing mentally, the blue-tinged teen settled back down by Dexter.

"Dexter…" Freakazoid breathed his little half's name descending upon him. Dexter cringed, still shaken by the rather traumatic nightmare, but relaxed himself once he felt the larger teen pull him into his arms. Hovering slightly above him, Freakazoid's stiff, long black hair flopped forward, his white lightning streaks defying gravity this way and that. The look Freak was giving him was one of clear worry, a serious emotion Dexter knew not many people got to experience from his wild alter-ego.

Realizing this, Dexter started to move his arms from his sides, but hesitated. Looking back into the eyes of this super-hero, this super-hero who he knew was infinitely stronger than him, but at the same time knew that he could trust with his life, he wrapped his arms around him. Slowly bringing his forehead to that of his other half's, Dexter initiated what was probably the first 'voluntary' touch in their relationship.

Tangling his hands in Freakazoid's long, black tresses, he was sure of one thing if nothing else, and he wasn't about to take the night's events without warning. He couldn't let go of Freak, no matter what tried to rip them apart.


End file.
